


Explosion

by Wispie



Series: All The Things We Know And Feel [2]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: (jk very angsty), Angst, Charles Xavier is spectacularly clueless, Confessions, Longing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Some angst, a tad angsty, soooo much longing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27149941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wispie/pseuds/Wispie
Summary: Charles has been avoiding Erik (because he's in love with him and he's dumb, duh). But what he finds when he finally lets Erik in... it's everything.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: All The Things We Know And Feel [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981823
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	Explosion

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt list: https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/post/187356400823/october-approaches-and-so-does-whumptober-2019
> 
> No. 2: Explosion

Charles sat at his desk, in his study. He didn’t know exactly what time it was, but it had been night for a while and that probably meant it was far too late to still be up working. But if he was being perfectly honest, he wasn’t really working anymore. He’d been “working” non-stop for the past week and had actually managed to get _everything_ done. He’d taken to reading genetics research journals to pass the time, holed up in his office away from everyone. One person in particular. Erik. 

As Charles’ feelings for him became more defined, their relationship grew more fraught. He knew how he felt and what he wanted, but couldn’t tell if Erik felt the same. And he didn’t dare use his powers to find out. It had gotten to the point now where it was difficult to be around Erik without feeling an aching tightness in his chest and pain in his heart and mind. 

Work was a wonderful way to avoid life, but it has its downsides. Work, despite how it may seem, is finite. 

There’d been a particularly awkward moment that morning during breakfast. The kids all ate in the cafeteria hall, but much of the faculty, particularly those close to Charles, preferred to eat in the mansion’s smaller kitchen. 

\-- 

He was just finishing up his morning tea when Erik walked in and mumbled a polite “Good morning, Charles.” That voice took him by surprise but he was mostly able to maintain composure. He could already feel his heart rate rising and the ache seeping in. 

“Morning.” He quickly downed the rest of his tea and tried not to stare. Erik looked incredible, composed and elegantly poised, wearing a turtleneck whose dark color disguised how snug and well it fit him, how it hugged every muscle and curve. Charles drank his tea faster. 

He stood up suddenly and strolled over to Raven, who was leaning against the counter by the sink reading a magazine. 

“Well, I have loads of work so I better get going.” 

Raven squinted at him in confusion, “But you were just saying how you didn’t have any work to do today.” 

Charles cursed himself for his absolutely idiotic attempts at small talk. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Erik turn to look at them, interest piqued. 

“Ah, yes-” he fumbled for an excuse, “well, something’s just come up.” Horrible, abysmal, terrible. This would not do. He placed his tea mug in the sink and began to make a break for it. 

“What, in the last five minutes?” Raven asked, still immensely confused. 

“Yes.” He paused, hoping she would catch on. She didn’t. Instead, her look of concern intensified and she placed a hand on his forehead as if checking for a fever. 

“Hey, you look flushed, are you alright?” 

The ache in Charles’ chest was reaching its zenith and he struggled to keep his voice level. 

“It’s the tea,” he responded meekly, strolling across the room to grab his coat and head for the door. 

“But tea doesn’t make you-” 

“Have a good day, Raven! Erik.” 

“Charles.” Erik responded calmly, with a teasing smirk playing at the corners of his lips. 

He took a deep breath as the door closed behind him, his heart beating a mile a minute. Charles closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, silently willing everyone to avoid this hallway for at least the next thirty seconds. He could still hear Raven and Erik’s voices, muffled through the door. 

“Oh my god.” Charles could almost see her shaking her head. “That was weird right?” 

“Yes, very much so.” 

\-- 

He’d had Hank bring him lunch and hadn’t left his office all day. Raven came to check on him at one point, a conversation which was only riddled with more pointless and poorly constructed excuses. He knew she was catching on, and she knew he knew, and he knew she knew he knew. It was all very complicated. 

It was getting very late now, Charles told himself, it was probably safe to sneak back to his room. A knock at the door caused him to jump slightly. 

“Who it is?” he called. No response. “Hold on-” he began to get up and check when the door opened and Erik walked in. 

“Hello, Charles.” He strolled over briskly and plopped himself down in the chair sitting across from him, crossing one leg over the other as he did so. It was remarkably graceful, and forward. Charles could feel that familiar old ache starting up again. 

“Erik,” he breathed, unable to say much else. 

“We need to talk.” 

“Do we, now?” Charles leaned back and folded his hands in his lap in an attempt to look calm and casual. 

Erik narrowed his gaze in amusement, “Yes, I think your little show in the kitchen this morning made that very clear.” Charles took a deep breath and tried to change subjects.

“It’s very late, can we do this tomorrow?” 

“No.” 

A long moment passed. Charles knew it was his turn to speak, but part of him was still hoping Erik would just get up and leave. He reminded himself of how foolish that was. Once Erik was determined to do something, there was no stopping him. 

“Alright then. Let’s talk.” 

This felt distinctly similar to setting up a chessboard, crafting a strategy, forming a plan of attack. They hadn’t played chess in weeks. 

“Something is going on. With you. I know it.” 

“Well, you’re not— wrong,” Charles stumbled over his words, angry with himself for his complete failure to maintain control around this man. 

Erik motioned for him to continue. “Out with it.” 

“God, Erik, you can’t just— you can’t— why do I owe you an answer, anyways?”

“Because it’s me you’ve been avoiding.” There was that knowing smirk again. 

“No.” It came out sounding more like a question than anything else. Charles briefly considered editing that out of Erik’s memory. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

Charles leaned forward, elbows on his desk and head in his hands, composure thrown out the window. 

It was a while before he could speak. 

“It’s so— hard,” he hated the way his voice faltered, having to pause again and take another breath. “It’s so hard to be around you, sometimes. All the time. When I feel this way about you and have no idea what you feel for me, if anything at all, it’s…” he trailed off. Charles’ heart was thudding heavier than it had that morning and the pain in his chest was reaching an acute peak. He felt shame, deep shame, and loss. He imagined Erik leaving, yelling, disgusted, ending whatever it is they had. But as Charles scanned him for any kind of response, he came up curiously blank. Erik seemed unshaken somehow, his expression largely contemplative with concern seeping in around the edges. 

“Have you ever looked?” he asked quietly. 

“No, you know I would never do that to you.”

Erik considered what he said next very carefully. 

“Go ahead.”

Charles shook his head in miffed surprise. “What? No, Erik-”

“Go ahead,” Erik repeated it once more, softer, inviting him in. 

Charles glanced away from him for a moment, in thought, before raising two fingers to his temple. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” Erik was surprised at how true that felt. 

“Well, when you put it like that,” Charles replied with marked sarcasm. He was quiet for a long time before he cleared his mind, closed his eyes, and dove in. What he’s met with is a flood of emotions so strong it threatens to sweep him away. Pain and regret and loss mingle with hope and care and above all, _love_ . They burst in his mind like sparks, firecrackers, like an _explosion_. It’s all so complex and overwhelming that it takes Charles a long moment to even know what he’s looking at. Through the emotions, he can piece together fleeting images, one after another flying at him. 

_Charles carefully unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. The sleek elegance of such a simple and dignified action. The pang of lust Erik feels upon witnessing it. Oh, how he wants to just stride over there and_ —

 _The metal of Charles’ watch, a familiar feeling. Erik focuses on it. It’s warm from being clasped around Charles’ wrist all day. There’s a light thump, rhythmic taps— babump, babump, babump. Charles’ pulse, beating steadily and quietly. Erik wants to feel that beat for himself, press his lips to that soft wrist and feel it speed up, he wants_ —

 _Erik watches from the shadows as Charles teaches. The lesson is on the possibly ancient origins of the x-gene mutation. But Erik couldn’t care less about that for the time being. Charles is leaning over the desk in front of him and Erik can’t help but stare at the way those dress pants fit around his ass, how they accentuate the swell and curve of his thigh, how_ —

 _It’s late at night. Charles is draped over the couch with a book in hand. He doesn’t notice as a single lock of hair shifts and falls onto his forehead, but Erik does. He stares at the single, rebellious curl and imagines delicately tucking it back behind Charles’ ear, then moving down to run his fingertips across his cheek, cupping that beautiful face in his hand and finally leaning in to_ —

 _“Good morning,” Charles murmurs as he enters the kitchen, placing an innocent hand on Erik’s shoulder as he walks past. It’s an innocuous, maddeningly simple act, but it sends Erik’s mind spinning. Warmth blooms in his chest and his heart fills with affection and_ —

 _“Hank and I are going out, we’ll be back in a bit,” Raven announces, strolling into the room to press a quick kiss to Charles’ cheek. “Alright, love you,” Charles murmurs in response._ **_Love you._ ** _Erik’s mind swoons at hearing Charles say those words, even if they aren’t to him. Raven leaves without noticing and Charles is none the wiser, but Erik struggles desperately to control his breathing and blood pressure, to stop a treacherous flush from rising to his cheeks and to keep his expression cool and stoic. ‘I love you.’ He turns the words over in his head, again and again. ‘Charles,’ he thinks, ‘I_ —’

He doesn’t finish the thought as their link is severed. Charles, still seated, is clutching white-knuckled to the desk before him. His breathing is heavy and staggered. His eyes, glistening and blue, are swimming. A few tears fall, but he wipes them away deftly. His heart is beating, his mind is racing, and his chest is aching with a different feeling this time, something new and exciting. 

Even Erik finds himself far less composed than before he poured out his soul. He can’t get himself to return to anything resembling a calm expression, he’s stuck at pained, barely-in-control, and on the verge of tears. 

“Does that answer your question?” Erik murmurs softly, barely above a whisper. 

Charles nods and raises his fingers once more. 

“Can I show you?”

Erik nods. Charles takes another breath and this time it’s him baring his soul. 

_Charles is walking to the lab to meet Hank and discuss some developments in his studies of Raven’s DNA. He turns a corner and nearly runs into Erik returning from the showers with wet hair, a towel in hand, and wearing just a robe._ **_Just_ ** _a robe. It isn’t the first time Charles has noticed this horrid habit of Erik’s but it is the first time he’s had to encounter it directly. He tries not to stare, and oh what a challenge that is. “Going out, Erik?” he quips, “I would recommend wearing more than that.” Erik chuckles, rolling his eyes and strolling off. But the image doesn’t leave Charles, it’s plastered onto the inside of his mind for the rest of the day. Then the rest of the week. Wet and messy hair, something to tug at, to pull on. That strong, lean, bare chest peeking through the robe. Oh, how Charles would love to take it off, to_ —

 _“Checkmate.” Charles smiles. It’s his fifth win that day. Erik grins back and then begins to laugh, warmly. Not a chuckle or an angry snicker, a deep, playful laugh. It sounds like chimes to Charles, and it resonates through him all the way to his heart. He simply sits back and smirks as Erik rearranges the pieces for another round. But what he really wants to do is jump up and kiss him. He wants to feel that laugh against his lips, to_ —

 _The door to Charles’ study is open as it’s been a slow and quiet day. He glances up as Erik and Hank appear, pausing as they approach the doorway. They’re talking about the relationship between Erik’s powers and true magnetism or something, but Charles is hardly focusing on that. Erik is dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans, and Charles is struck by how downright gorgeous he is even outside of dress pants and turtlenecks. It’s also easier to see the outlines of the muscles in his chest and arms when he isn’t in black or navy. Charles revels in the idea of running his hand under that shirt and feeling the skin underneath, of letting the fabric ride up and offer intoxicating glimpses. He wants to feel every muscle, run his hands across Erik’s back and_ —

 _Erik sits gracefully in a large and stately lounge chair, accompanying Charles through a night of hard work. The sky outside is dark, but the room is serene and warm. Erik idly floats a pen around his fingers as he sifts through papers, spinning it occasionally but never letting it touch him. Charles marvels at how he can do something so mesmerizing with only half his concentration. Erik has beautiful fingers, Charles notices as they trace graceful dances through the air, how wonderful it would be to kiss them, to feel Erik’s gentle touch against his lips, to_ —

 _It’s a Friday night after dinner and everyone is together, enjoying drinks and casual conversation. It’s getting late and Charles is getting tired, but he doesn’t care. His inhibitions are lowered, his critical thinking is impaired, and he’s been making eyes at Erik all night. He’s standing, drink in hand, out of the way of the main group, all of them having congregated on the couches. Listening to their playful banter, he hardly notices Erik approaching to his right. He just feels a hand rest on his lower back. “How are you feeling?” Erik asks softly. It takes all that remains of Charles’ control to keep his voice steady. “Good. Very good.” He tries his very hardest not to tense up or freeze, knowing that Erik would interpret that poorly. But Charles doesn’t want that hand to move, it rests comfortably against him, the most reassuring and gentle of touches. A thought crosses his mind. It’s a terrible idea, but isn’t 11pm on a Friday after far too much alcohol the best time for bad ideas? Charles allows himself to lean in and tentatively, very tentatively, rests his head on Erik’s shoulder. Erik seems to accept it, caressing back and forth softly with his thumb. So Charles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Erik. His cologne, the way his clothes smell, traces of sweat from his morning run, it’s more intoxicating than the brandy in his glass. He wants desperately to be surrounded and embraced by that smell, and more importantly, the man who comes with it, he wants_ —

_They’re training, trying to find that perfect balance between rage and serenity that Charles is so adamant about. He's been in and out of Erik’s head all day, searching for the brightest, shiniest memories from his childhood to serve as reminders of the good in him. They’re testing his limits of distance, first a mile, then two, then three. Now Erik is focusing, straining, trying to locate a pile of scrap metal five miles away. Charles doesn’t mean to look where he’s not supposed to, but Erik’s defenses are down and they’ve been doing this all day. He only means to strengthen the memory, but he stops cold at what he finds. It’s a memory of Charles, of a quiet afternoon they spent together, warm and peaceful. He’d asked Erik to choose a memory especially close to his heart, and this is what he’d chosen. Charles. It wasn’t even Charles at his best, it was Charles as his purest, his most essential and happiest. He was floored. “It’s in the forest, to the west, just over five miles away,” Erik spoke, breaking the silence. Charles left his mind before Erik would notice he was ever there. If he had, he said nothing of it. “5.27 miles,” Charles replied. “Top marks.”_

He broke the connection there. His breathing was steadier but still erratic. It was Erik who appeared shaken this time. 

“I didn’t know you saw that,” he murmured, staring intently at Charles. “How could you not know what I feel for you?” 

Charles shifted uncomfortably, quite done with sharing for the day, but ultimately deciding to continue spilling his heart out. “I was scared. I wasn’t sure. It’s a… delicate situation.” He sent Erik memories of pink triangles, of the horrors and humiliations they experienced. Erik understood. They were silent for a long time, simply staring at each other and allowing their heart rates to return to normal, or as close as they could get. 

Then Erik stood, quickly and suddenly, striding over to Charles, who found himself standing to greet him. Erik placed a hand on his cheek and Charles couldn’t help but flick his gaze between those eyes— sultry, longing— and those lips— soft, sweet. Erik leaned in and now they were kissing. The pain in Charles’ chest was gone, replaced with a blooming warmth that spread down his legs, out to his fingertips. Even to his lips, where Erik’s touch was sending sparks flying directly to his head, making him gasp lightly as the kiss deepened. Erik smiled as they separated and Charles was convinced it was too soon, but he was also too stunned to do anything but stand there and stare at him. It was minutes— that felt like hours— before he could speak again. 

“Those were beautiful memories you gave me, Erik.” 

Erik smiled, as softly as he knew how to. “There’s more to come.” 


End file.
